The Modern Adventures of Pinocchio
by The Enduring Man-Child
Summary: An old forum fic of mine based on the original Collodi classic, not the Disney movie. There are also a couple of guest stars!


**The Modern Adventures of Pinocchio**

**by "The Enduring Man-Child"**

_**All standard disclaimers apply.**_

**This is an unusual fic. It was written many years ago and posted on the old "Acorn Cafe" (a forum for fans of "Chip 'n' Dale's Rescue Rangers") as "An Off Topic Fan Fic." It is still buried very deeply in the archives of that forum, but since it is my own work I have decided to try to post it here at .**

**The immediate inspiration for this story was how _Hook _updated Peter Pan to the modern day. I wanted to do the same with one of my all time favorite stories, _The Adventures of Pinocchio_, by Carlo Collodi, as translated by M.A. Murray and illustrated by Fritz Kredel. This is an absolute gem of a book and I advise everyone who has not to read it. Do not settle for the Disney movie! This fic also features a couple of characters I had used in an earlier RR fic ("Home is Where You Hang Upside Down"), Mulder and Sculley from "The X-Files."**

**This was composed at the keyboard and posted as written, and I am posting it here in its original form. This means there was no beta, and I apologize for the many mistypes and other errors that surely are found throughout.**

**As noted at the beginning, this is an unusual fic. But it is mine own and I am proud of it, and I hope it will meet with the approval of some of the readers here. Please check it out and leave a review.**

- - - - -

Ms. Lee's class class at Schuyler Colfax Middle School held their breath as their teacher was called to the classroom door. Someone from the principal's office was whispering to her, which usually meant either a new student or someone was in trouble. With any luck it would be the latter. But such was not to be.

"Um...class, I've been informed that a new student will be joining, us," Ms. Lee told them, though her brow was furrowed as though there were something troubling about this common situation. "He will be joining us in a few minutes." And indeed just as she had finished speaking there came some uncommonly sharp and loud raps at the classroom door.

"I suppose that's him," Ms. Lee said as she returned to the door and opened it. But upon doing so she seemed to freeze in place with her mouth wide open. The reason for this shortly became apparent.

"May I enter?" asked a sweet voice with just the tinge of an accent. Ms. Lee only nodded, though it seemed to take her a while to realize that she needed to move away from the door in order to allow the new scholar to enter. And when he did a gasp emanated from the entire class.

What they saw was not a flesh-and-blood child but a puppet made of wood. He was wearing a garment of flowered paper and had bark shoes upon his feet and on his head a cap made from what seemed to be a crumb of old world bread. In his hands he carried not a notebook or modern schoolbooks but instead an aged speller and a slate with a stick of chalk. He seemed to have stepped out of another century.

"Good day, fellow scholars!" he said, seemingly unaware of the unusual effect he was having, "My name is Pinocchio!"

Silence.

"Where is the master?" he asked.

"The...master?" Ms. Lee asked finally.

"Yes. The schoolmaster," the puppet answered.

"I am the teacher of this class," Ms. Lee said, overcoming her previous shock, "My name is Ms. Lee."

"A _woman_ schoolmaster? Oh, but I perceive that there are females in the class as well. What an unusual country this is!"

"Um...yes. Would you please take a seat there at the second desk of the last row?"

"Willingly!" he answered cheerily and proceeded to make himself at home.

- - - - -

Mr. Markoff, principal of Schuyler Colfax Middle School, was busy studying his copy of _The New Multicultural American Classroom_ which had been distributed to all principals by the Board of Education. He prided himself on his progressive outlook and doubted that any situation could arise that he would not be ready for. So when his phone rang at the end of the school day he answered confidently.

"Yes?"

"Ms. Lee wants to see you, sir. She seems quite distressed about something."

"Very well, send her in," he said airily. Whatever it was, it was nothing _he_ couldn't handle.

"Principal Markoff?" Ms. Lee asked in a small voice, as if afraid to speak too loudly.

"Yes what is it, Ms. Lee? The school day is over and I'm sure we would all like to return to our homes."

"It's...it's the new kid...in my class." Principal Markoff noticed that she said "kid" and not "student."

"I don't know that I can take this situation!" she said at last beginning to weep. "I mean, I've been teaching for five years and I've seen a lot of things in that short amount of time, but I simply don't know what to do! They never taught us about _this_ in college!"

"Is the new student causing you trouble? Does he display sociopathic tendencies of any kind?"

"No, not at all!" she said with a distress that did not fit her words at all, "in fact he's the most polite and well-behaved student in class. But...but _he's made of wood!!!"_

Principal Markoff looked at her for a moment with his mouth hanging open, unable to think of any words to push through it.

"Would you like a substitute to take over your class for a few weeks?" he asked her finally, with an artificially profuse smile.

"I...I don't know!" she said after some thought, "he's not disruptive or anything, except for the effect he has on the other students. But...I didn't know there were any living people who were made of wood!" And she blew her nose into a tissue.

"Why don't you just go home and see if you feel better tomorrow," he suggested. "If not I can always get Coach Spivak to take over for you for a few days."

"Oh, thank you so much Mr. Markoff! You have no idea how what it's been like today looking at this kid made out of _WOOD_ all day long...and with that ridiculously long nose!" After a while and a few more comforting words from the principal Ms. Lee finally took her leave and the Principal also made ready to call it a day.

- - - - -

The next morning the trouble, or whatever it was, already seemed to be dissipating. Ms. Lee had called Principal Markoff while he was still at home to apologize for her emotionalism of the previous day and to assure him that she was quite willing to give the new "kid" another shot. Things were looking good. Obviously it had been a lot of nothing.

But at lunch that day the new student, the one who had had such an effect on Ms. Lee the previous day, was called into the principal's office for fighting. He had evidently gotten into a row with one of the school bullies in the lunch line and had injured him quite badly. At any rate he had to be sent to the school nurse. Principal Markoff was now in a very sour mood, thinking that this must indeed be a very disruptive student after all. At least that's what he thought until Pinocchio was actually ushered into his office that afternoon.

All work ceased in the main room of the office as the strange boy entered, and one of the receptionists was finally induced to conduct him into the Principal's office, which she did as quickly as possible. Imagine the Principal's dudgeon at finding just precisely what Ms. Lee had described...a boy made entirely of wood (with a ridiculously long nose), wearing a cloak of flowered paper, bark shoes, and a bread crumb cap. Underneath he seemed to be shaped like a bowling pin with slim arms and legs, the latter of which were obviously hinged. If the arms were, he could not see them. And he was carrying the pre-modern slate which had also been described to him.

"Are you then indeed the Master of this school?" the boy inquired politely.

"Master? I'm . . . I am the _principal_ of this school, young man."

"Then good day to you, Sir Principal!"

"Um...yes. Won't you have a seat? Assuming you _can_ sit, that is." He said the latter under his breath.

"Willingly!" And the puppet indeed sat down in the chair on the other side of the Principal's desk.

"Now then, young Mr...."

"Pinocchio."

"Young Mr. Pinocchio...I understand that you got into a fight with another student. How did that come about?"

"Even so!" the puppet replied, "I was famished and in the luncheon line where I hoped to feast upon cauliflowers and sweet syrup when a young ruffian accosted me and asked for my money, which my poor father had given me to buy my daily sustenance. Not wanting to come to fisticuffs (for I remembered what the old Crab with a cold had told me, that fights between boys seldom come to any good, and how I learned that to my sorrow!) so that I opened my purse and offered him twopence, but he looked as though he had never seen twopence in his life, with the result that he attempted a blow against my body, which is made of the hardest wood, and in doing so hurt his hand, though it was his fault, for I never meant to hurt him, for my poor Papa has labored long and hard to make of me a respectable and well-behaved boy, and it would break his poor old heart! Please tell me that you will not inform him of this unfortunate occurrence, Sir Principal, and I shall shower you with kisses! Oh ih, ih, ih!" And he wept profusely.

The Principal unconsciously pushed his swivel chair back at the threat of being showered with kisses but could not make a move otherwise or even speak for a very long time. He had never seen anything quite like this.

"Tell me, Mr....Pinocchio...do you live with both your parents?" Perhaps a broken home could explain the boy's strange attachment to his father.

"Yes indeed, though actually I have only a Papa, who made me of wood."

"So you don't have a mother then?"

"Indeed I do, and the very best, though she is not my mother by nature. But she has consented to be my mother and I love her with all my heart."

"So then, your mother died and your father remarried and you live with your father and stepmother." This was going to be easy after all.

"Oh no, for as I said, I have never had a Mama, though the Child With Blue Hair has acted as my mother for many years."

"Ch-Child? Your stepmother is a _child_?" Here was a new development.

"Sometimes she is a Beautiful Child, at which times she is my Dear Little Sister, but at others she is a young woman, when she is my Good Little Mama!" The boy's wooden face was beaming.

"Your father is married...to a...child...?"

"Oh no, my Papa and Mama are not married." The expression on his face didn't indicate any sorrow or even awareness that this was a bit unusual.

"So then your mother is dead, and you live with your father and sister, who acts as your mother?"

"Oh yes, except for the fact that I have never had a real mother. But she is sometimes my Mama (when she is a young woman) and at other times, when she wishes to be the Beautiful Child With Blue Hair, she is my sister."

"What does your father do for a living, my boy?"

"He is a beggar, your honor, and travels throughout the world trying to earn a crumb of bread and a glass of wine!" This was said with some pride, though it horrified the principal. This might be a job for child services.

"Your father is a _beggar???_" asked the man, scarcely able to believe his ears.

"Oh yes, for my poor Papa is very old and lame, but he has labored for many years to make me a respectable and well-behaving puppet. For you must know that for a long time I was a rogue and a vagabond and brought him only sorrow, but now my only wish is to care for him in his old age and to be in my behavior a credit to him and to my dear little Mama. By the way, you did not ask my Mama's occupation."

"Er...what is it?" At the time this is all he could say.

Pinocchio's face shone. "She is a Fairy!"

The first things to become visible from behind the desk were his hands as the Principal picked himself off the floor.

"Are you injured, Sir Principal?" asked the puppet.

"N--No," he stammered as he stood up, not even bothering to retake his seat, "your mother is a _fairy???_"

The puppet nodded enthusiastically.

"Wait a minute; I'm having trouble understanding something here. Is this your mother or your sister?"

"Both!"

The Principal hit the floor again.

"Hello? Sir Principal?" the puppet asked in a voice full of evident concern.

"Um...yes. Yes indeed. Well now, Mr...."

"Pinocchio."

"Mr. Pinocchio, the first thing we need to do here is to clear you of any guilt in the matter, seeing as how you were not at fault in the incident in the cafeteria...unless you were lying, that is."

"Never fear!" said the puppet, "for you can always tell when I am lying, as my nose grows the length of two fingers with each lie. Lying is the most disgusting habit a boy can have, as my dear little Sister..."

"The one who's your mother?"

"Yes! Even as she once taught me, and I have resolved never to tell another lie, and I have kept faithfully to that resolution even till this day."

"Well...I...I think we can establish your innocence in this matter, Mr. Pinocchio. Kindly return to your classroom please."

"Willingly!" cried the puppet, and he was gone.

The Principal was in a dilemma. As a public school official he was trained to be on guard for any signs of mistreatment in the home environment, and this boy's story was certainly sending out signals of some kind. But at the same time, he was also trained to be respectful and non-judgmental towards alternative family structures, and a rash move there could prove disastrous to his career. So could inaction if the boy was being terrified by old-fashioned parents. And he certainly seemed too good to be true. Well, and the being made of wood thing was a little upsetting.

What was he to do? How was he to discreetly find out this boy's true family situation without appearing to be an old-fashioned bigot while he did it?

Then he smiled. Yes..._she_ could help him!

So great was his relief that he didn't realize that he was retrieving a book from his shelves and opening it. Imagine his horror at seeing the title of the chapter: "The Mother-Sister Figure in the Childhood Subconscious." He looked at the cover. It was a book of Freudian childhood-psychoanalytic theory!

This day couldn't end soon enough.

- - - - -

The familiar suburban home was indeed a welcome sight that evening. And this time instead of heading for the kitchen he headed for another room upstairs, a room on the door of which was attached one of those erasable cardboard slate thingies. On it was written the word "Tiffany" in a girlish hand, and pink bunnies and hearts festooned the whole thing.

He put his ear to the door. Sure enough, she was going full-throttle. On the cell phone again!

He knocked on the door. "Princess, could I speak to you for a minute?" he asked. The chatter continued unabated. He knocked again. Still no response. Then, "Honey, I hate to do it, but if you don't let me in I'm just going to have to barge in there." Silence. Then some softer mumbling followed by an audible click.

The door opened.

"Like, what is it, Dad? Like, I was just talking to Heather about what Muffy said about Sondra's boyfriend Trent, and how he was like..."

"Listen Princess," he interrupted her, "your daddy is having a problem at school and he needs your help."

"Like, really? Like, _omigosh!_ Like, what do you need me to do, Daddy?"

"Well, you see there's this new kid. And he may be in some trouble at home. Or maybe not; maybe he just has one of those alternative family structures. Anyway, we need to help him if it's the first thing and leave him alone if it's the other, but I don't know how I can go about it myself."

"Like, you wanna use my cell phone?" she asked.

He stared at her.

"I don't know his last name. I don't think he has one," he said finally.

"Like, that is soooo _tubular!_ Like, he could be a kid of one of those one-name celebs or something! Is he cute?"

"I never thought about the celeb thing," father answered. He thought it best not to answer the other question. "But here is where you could help me. Would you mind spending tomorrow in Ms. Lee's class? That's where he is, you see, and you might get acquainted with him."

"But like, Dad, Ms. Lee's class is for fifth graders--little kids!--and I'm like, so totally in sixth grade now!" She wrinkled her nose at the indignity.

"I know, sweetheart, but you'll only have to do it for a day--just till you find out a little about him. Then you can go right back to Ms. Abercrombie's class. Promise! And I'll have a talk with her and everything, so you won't fall behind. It would be like being a _spy!_"

"Oooooooh," she said, "that is, like, so _gnarly!_ Plus, as a girl on the cusp of puberty I can practice using my Magical Female Powers(tm) on him; if he's cute, I'll, like, so totally dump Brad, and if he's, like, gross, I'll break his heart! Er...you didn't hear that part, Dad," she said, her face red at letting slip one of her gender's secrets.

"Agreed. You just help Daddy tomorrow and he'll get you the latest CD by your favorite boy band! How does that sound?"

"Like, _**duh!**_" she said a bit rudely, "Dad, we, like, download our music now. But all the same, it sounds like fun! Sure, I'll be glad to help you tomorrow, Dad!"

At last Principal Markoff could relax. It was going to be all right after all.

"Thanks, Princess!" he said to her. "Thanks!"

- - - - -

Principal Markoff sat in his office with his head in his hands. Burns was certainly right about the best laid schemes. His plan to have his daughter ingratiate herself into the wooden boy's friendship in order to report on him never even took off the ground. Instead not ten minutes after the opening bell there was a steadily increasing scream followed by what appeared to be a tornado streaking through the hall and finally breaking into the lobby of the principal's office and finally into the office itself. The tornado was revealed to be the principal's daughter when it became relatively stationary and threw its arms around her father and sobbed onto his shoulder in a long lament that was delivered practically without pause for breath:

"Oh Daddy! It was, like, so horrible! I, like, went into the classroom and like, saw this weird kid and, like, thought that must be him, and, like, sat down by him, and I was like '_**GAZEINTOMEEYES!!!!!**_' and he was, like, 'O_o,' and I was, like, 'I am this totally hot girl, and you are like, **_soooooooooo_** in my power!' but then he was like, so totally made out of wood! And he was, like, _**shaped like a bowling pin!!!**_ Is that, like, _gross_ er _whaaat???_" And the torrent of tears that followed was such that he wound up sending her to the nurse's station and excusing her from class for the rest of the day. Oh well. Scratch that plan.

Then...a smile formed on this face. Whenever a problem arises that seems impossible to handle, there is always one sure solution: _DELEGATE!!!_

- - - - -

Paul Mortenson glanced at the clock on the wall with a smile on his face much like a hungry predator might display before a kill. As guidance counselor of Schuyler Colfax Middle School his duties consisted mostly of tossing paper wads at the garbage can in a frustrated compensation for his never having made the basketball team as a youth. After all, it wasn't like middle school students really needed much occupational guidance and really serious problems were usually intercepted by medical or governmental personnel long before any matter was brought to his position. But two days ago Principal Markoff had come to his office (he usually phoned the guidance counselor if he ever had anything to say to him, which was seldom) and told him of a really bizarre case in Ms. Lee's class. This student's case did not appear to fit any neat classification and the principal was in a bit of a bind as to whether an intervention was called for or if perhaps the boy's parents should be asked to speak to the faculty at the next sensitivity training meeting. "This definitely goes beyond my training, Dr. Mortenson," he had said. And Mortenson really liked being called "Dr." since he only had a master's degree. So of course he had agreed at once. The following day the principal had gathered up the nerve to speak with the new Wooden-American student and set up an appointment for his entire family to meet with the counselor, and now, here Mortenson was just minutes away from the meeting. He rubbed his hands.

Classes had ended about half an hour earlier and only something like this could have prevented Mortenson from bolting for his car as soon as final bell sounded. As he rehearsed the wonderfully sensitive, understanding, yet firm demeanor he was going to present to the unusual family he heard screams from outside. Then his phone rang.

"Your 3:30 appointment is here, Sir," a female voice stuttered.

"Yes. Send them in immediately," he said in his most solemn voice.

The door was opened by the hand of someone who had evidently left abruptly immediately afterwards. But Counselor Mortenson had little time to give this any thought as his eyes were met by the most unusual procession he had ever seen.

The first to come into sight was a bowling-pin shaped figure (yes, Tiffany had been right!) who seemed to be made of wood, with his legs consisting of two wooden beams each, joined by a peg at each knee. He wore a garment of flowered paper, shoes made of tree bark, and wore on his head a cap resembling a crumb of Old World bread. And above all was the ridiculously long, pointed nose.

"Good day to you, Sir Doctor!" the strange boy saluted him cheerily. Mortenson was too shocked to have returned this greeting anyway, but his condition worsened considerably as he beheld the rest of the party.

After the student came a little old wizened man who seemed ancient beyond reason either due to length of years or to hardship (or both). He was crippled and made his way slowly with the aid of two canes, with which he also propped up his bent figure. His clothes could only be described as rags, and his face was full of wrinkles and stubble, though his moustache was complete.

The third and final figure to enter his office was a little Goat with a blue coat.

The counselor screamed.

"The Schoolmaster instructed me to bring my family to meet with you, good Sir Doctor!" said the--the--puppet (for he indeed resembled nothing so much as an old-fashioned marionette), "so here we are, all three! First I wish you to meet my dear Papa, Gepetto."

"Good day," the old man said, "Perhaps a fine physician such as yourself would be able to spare a few farthings to help an old man buy his bread and wine?"

"Next is the Beautiful Little Blue Goat!"

"Baa!" the indicated figure responded.

Mortenson gripped onto his desk to keep from passing out.

"Er...um...er...um..."

"Wait!" the old man interrupted him, "What is this your Lordship has behind his ear? Why, behold!" And he reached forth a gnarled hand to the counselor's ear and produced a small round piece of wood. "Why, you have had this wooden farthing behind your Lordship's ear! Now, is this not perhaps worth two pence with which an old man could purchase a little bread and wine for his family?"

"Baa!" said the Goat.

"Mr....Pinocchio...is this a joke?" the counselor said at last, trying to look sternly at the puppet but succeeding only in looking horrified instead.

"I...I do not understand your Honor," Pinocchio said with his mouth open in great puzzlement.

"You...you were supposed to bring your parents to see me."

And indeed I have done so!" he said, his smile returning.

"This man is your father?"

"Oh yes indeed."

"Then where is your mother? I understood you lived in a two-parent household."

"Sometimes, she..." the puppet said, pointing at the Goat, "is my Dear Mama; at others she chooses to be a Beautiful Child and is my Dear Little Sister."

"Sh--She? You mean the goat?" he asked.

"Indeed."

"And...what is she today?"

Pinocchio looked at her for a moment then answered the counselor.

"Today she is a Goat."

"Perhaps your honor has something which your poor servant could juggle for your amusement?" the old man interrupted, "which would perhaps be worth a few farthings to you, so that I could provide a crust of bread and a pot of vetch for my poor family?"

"Baa!"

With the greatest difficulty Paul Mortenson rose to his feet. After steadying himself on his desk he lurched to the door of his office. Once outside he began to run. He ran all the way to the principal's office and once there, without even asking the secretary's permission, grabbed her phone and dialed a number.

"Get me children's services!"

- - - - -

The man and woman found themselves standing before a charming old-world style wooden two-storey house which was inexplicably located between two towering apartment buildings in the city.

"Okay Mulder," the redhead said to her partner, "they took our baby away, they've closed the X-files, we lost our jobs, they canceled our series, and the aliens are coming. So tell me again what we're doing as municipal children's services investigators?"

"We're doing it," he told her, "because we're incurable do-gooders who can't abide sitting still while injustice is perpetrated, even if civilization as we know it is doomed within a few years. Oh, and to make money," he added.

Scully sighed. She looked at the beautifully-crafted little door but saw no doorbell, peephole, or even mailbox. "Do you suppose we're supposed to knock?" she asked, despite the clumsiness of the vocabulary of the question.

"Only one way to find out," Mulder said as he proceeded to test his theory.

In response to the knock a window in the second storey opened up and out popped--_**a monster!!!**_ I mean, it was awful! It was huge, and slimy, and viscuous, and had these tentacles with _eyes_ on the end and everything!

"May I help you?" asked the Monster in a sweet, cheery, feminine voice.

Mulder and Scully fear-hugged like Team Rocket and screamed their lungs out.

"Beautiful Little Snail, who is at the door?" a woman's voice asked from within the house, "is it the carabineers?"

The snail (for indeed it was a giant snail) extended two eye stalks. "They do not appear to be carabineers," she answered.

"Is it the gendarmes?" the voice asked again.

The snail extended its other two eye stalks. "They do not look like gendarmes" she said.

"Then who is at the door, Beautiful Little Snail?" the second voice asked.

"They look like Team Rocket," the Snail said.

"Who?"

"Never mind, my Mistress. I shall let them in. It will be merely a matter of a few hours for me to descend the stairs."

"No need, Beautiful Little Snail," said the voice. Then it said again, apparently addressed to the visitors, "turn he knob and the door will open." And sure enough, not only was this true, but both Mulder and Scully (being former G-Persons) noticed that there was not a lock anywhere about the door.

Upon entering they found a quaint little Old World style room, as if from another time. There were no electric lights but rather lit candles illuminated the room here and there, and a cheery fire blazed in a fireplace, though one could hardly feel the heat from it (which is the way fireplaces are for anyone used to modern heating). Before them a wooden boy shaped like a bowling pin, wearing the traditional paper/bark/breadcrumb ensemble stood smiling. Behind him an attractive young woman with blue hair and wearing an apron was sewing on a garment of some kind. But what clashed terribly was one corner of the room, which seemed to belong to a hovel rather than to the pretty little house. There an old crippled man dressed in rags was whittling away on an uncompleted marionette while several others lay completed before him on the wooden table. On seeing the guests this figure stopped what he was doing, adjusted his glasses, and said to them:

"Eh, Sir and Madam. Perhaps you could spare a sovereign for a poor old man forced to beg for his bread and wine?"

"Please, Papa Gepetto, do not beg from our guests," said the beautiful woman. Then to the pair she said, "I am the Fairy With Blue Hair, and you must be the people whom the schoolmaster told us to expect. Welcome to our home. The well-behaved young puppet is Pinocchio, and Gepetto is is Papa. Today I am his Mama, though some days I choose to be his Dear Little Sister. May I offer you a morsel with which to assuage your gnawing appetite?"

"Scully, I think I see a way to get our old jobs back!" Mulder exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement.

But she shushed him and instead introduced herself and her partner. "I am Dana Scully and this is Fox Mulder..."

"Etci!" sneezed the puppet.

"Excuse him, please," the Woman with Blue Hair said, "He once had a very bad experience with a fox and developed an allergy to them."

"Oooookaay . . . " Scully said.

"Please allow me to offer you a morsel!" the Woman With Blue Hair said, and before Scully could protest she had disappeared into another room and emerged in no time with a huge steaming platter covered by one of those fancy things used to cover large platters in quaint old-world style houses (sorry; can't think of the word!), and indeed, the steam issuing from it seemed positively scrumptious. The Woman sat the platter down on a little table and began to dish the contents out onto the plates placed there.

"Cauliflower?" she asked.

"Eh, Sir and Madam!" the old man in the corner said, "Be so kind as to spare a farthing for an old man who is forced by infirmity and old age to beg for his sustenance!"

"Bon bons?" asked the Woman, "Please, Papa, do not beg from our son's guests!"

"I beg pardon from Your Honors," the old man said, "I am an old man and sometimes foolish, though always honest."

The Woman With Blue Hair dished a serving of delicious-looking, savory meat into the plates on the table. "Polecat?" she asked.

Mulder nervously popped a sunflower seed into his mouth. The old man saw this and said, "I beg a thousand pardons from your excellency! I had no idea that I was violating professional courtesy by begging from a fellow beggar, for surely only a beggar could subsist on sunflower seed! Come," he continued, "and share in my vetch, pear rind, and eggshell boiled in water, my fellow unfortunate!"

"Scuuuuuly! . . . " he said.

The aforementioned woman snapped out of her reverie (for lack of a better word) and tried to get down to business.

"Please, Mr. and Mrs....?"

The Woman With Blue Hair and old man looked at one another. "We are not married," the Woman said, "we are simply Pinocchio's family. Gepetto there is his dear Papa, while today I am his Dear Little Mama."

"Today?" Scully wanted to know.

"Oh yes. As you can see, today I am a young woman. But when I choose, I am a Beautiful Child and on those days I am Pinocchio's Dear Little Sister."

"Sometimes she is a Goat," Gepetto added.

"Oh yes!" she confirmed.

"Yes, sometimes my Mama is a beautiful little Goat with blue wool!" the puppet exclaimed, his wooden eyes shining.

"It's getting late and I wanna get outta here!" Mulder murmured between his teeth to his partner.

"Um...yes. Alternative family structure. But what the hey, this is the 21st Century, isn't it? At any rate, it is my duty to inspect your house so you can see the conditions in which young...Pinocchio...lives. Do you mind showing it to me?"

"I would show it you willingly were it my house," the Woman with Blue Hair said with a sigh, "but we are merely guests in this house and you must ask the permission of the owner."

"Owner?" Mulder interrupted, "Well Scully, looks like we'll have to leave and come back later...much later" he added between his teeth. "Tell you what, Scully and I or, hopefully, someone else will be back once the owner of your delightful home has been contacted. Deal? Come on Scully, let's go!" he said, beginning to pull her towards the door.

The Woman With Blue Hair interrupted with delightful bell-like laughter. "There is no need to delay," she told them, "for the owner of the house lives here as well, and you may ask his permission this moment!"

"Um...where is this owner right now?" asked Mulder.

"Cri-cri-cri!"

The Woman With Blue Hair pointed towards the ceiling, and following her indication Mulder and Scully looked upwards and found sitting on the ceiling the largest cricket they had ever seen.

"I am the owner of this house," the cricket said, "this family are my guests. You may examine the house to your content, my lady. I have no objections."

It was several moments before Mulder and Scully could find their voices. "And wh--who, may I ask, is _that?_" Scully asked the others, in her astonishment forgetting good manners and not responding to the cricket directly.

"I am the Talking Cricket," he answered.

Mulder and Scully fear-hugged again.

"Indeed, the Talking Cricket is perhaps my oldest, dearest, and truest friend in the world, after only my dear little Papa and dear little Mama/Sister/Goat," the puppet said, "though at first I treated him most shamefully, even killing him at one point."

"Ah, but I have long since forgiven you, Young Master Pinocchio," the Cricket assured him, "for you have demonstrated by your deeds as well as by your words that you are no longer a vagabond and a rapscallion, but are determined to be a well-behaved puppet."

"Thank you, Sir Cricket!" the puppet said, drying a tear.

"You _killed_ him?" Scully asked from within the fear-hug.

"Yes, but that was long ago. Please do not scold Pinocchio, as I have long since forgiven him, and I was the injured party, as I am the one he killed. Besides, as you can see, I am happily no longer dead."

"You're not a ghost?" Mulder asked.

"Oh no, though I was at one point."

"Then he was a doctor," Pinocchio said.

"But please, Sir and Madam," the Woman With Blue Hair said, "I am afraid we are being rude. You requested to see our home, and the Master of the House having given his permission let us proceed at once."

"Mistress, I will be downstairs in two more hours!" a voice called from upstairs.

"No need, Beautiful Little Snail!" the Woman laughed, "I shall show it them myself." Then turning to Scully she asked, "Would you prefer I conduct you in my present guise, or would you prefer to be conducted by the Child or the Goat?"

"Y--You're fine just as you are!" Scully assured her.

"Then come!" the self-proclaimed Fairy answered, prying her from her partner, to whom she was still clinging for support, and saying this she conducted her from room to room, and upstairs as well.

Meanwhile Mulder was left alone with the extremely discomforting party in the main room of the little house. Gepetto was crying and saying "Alas, you poor fellow! To have to subsist on seeds for your very life! However," he added, "if you are in fact capable of honest work but are feigning misfortune to avoid it be sure in the end you will repent it."

"Indeed," Pinocchio said, "but I think the fact that he is here at the request of the schoolmaster shows us that he is trying to reform."

"Indeed," Gepetto said, "I had forgotten! How rude of me! Obviously this man is trying to put his life together but still subsists on roots and seeds from long habit of misfortune or of sloth."

"Let us not shame out guest," said the voice of the Cricket from above them, "but rather let us show what our young master Pinocchio has learned. Cipher for the man, my boy."

Mulder was in heck. The only time he had heard the word "cipher" used like that was in "The Beverly Hillbillies." But while Pinocchio recited his multiplication tables and Gepetto begged him to accept a crust of dry bread or a pear core his agony was cut short as Scully hurriedly returned downstairs much sooner than she should have. Obviously something had discomfited her.

"Mulder," she whispered, "I think we need to leave now. I've seen enough."

"What's wrong? What did you see?" Mulder asked in an undertone.

"Please Madam, do not be offended!" the Fairy With Blue Hair said, "you have not yet seen all the rooms of our beautiful little house!"

"What is this?" Gepetto wanted to know, "Did something offend them?"

"Alas, I do not know," she said, "they saw our Pinocchio's human body upstairs in his bedroom and reacted most strangely."

"Body?" Mulder asked.

"Mulder, they have a child's _body_ upstairs!" Scully said. She was of course not at all sensitive about dead bodies, but this was a child's body in the house of a strange family whose fitness to raise children was under investigation.

"There is no need to be downcast," the puppet told them, "for that body is none other but my own."

"That's _your_ body?" Scully wanted to know. "Just what do you mean by that?" For she was thinking that perhaps he was claiming responsibility for the murder and that this strange couple was rearing a dangerous sociopath.

"Yes, for you see, I longed for many years to cease to be a wooden puppet and to be a real boy, and at last my wish was granted, only I eventually decided I much preferred to be a puppet, as it is what set me apart from all other boys and also prevents me from growing old and dying."

"Mulder, this is a job for the police!" Scully said.

"Indeed it is," he replied. Then to the family he said "Listen here, you sickos! Whatever you're up to it's over now! I'm coming back here with the police armed with a warrant for your arrest for murder and accessory to murder!"

"Why does everyone continue to hold my death against the poor boy?" the Cricket asked, "when I myself, who was killed by him, have long since forgiven him? I beg you to reconsider!"

But Mulder and Scully had already left, almost crashing through the closed door in their haste.

Pinocchio looked at his parents. "I do not understand," he said, "Have I done something wrong?"

"Worry not, my child," the Fairy said, "It appears that we have come to a country of uncivilized savages. We shall correct that at once."

"And he lived on seeds and gravel all those years!" Gepetto wept, "how could someone who once bore the proud and honorable name of Beggar behave in such a disgraceful manner?"

"I am downstairs now, my lady," said the giant snail, who had just arrived in the living room after much gastropodal exertion.

"Upstairs again and pack our things, please," she said.

"It shall be done," the snail said, bowing. Then it was back to the gastropodal exertion.

Meanwhile Pinocchio, good boy that he was, without even being asked to, went to the closet and retrieved the bottle of slime remover. For he knew that misfortune was never an excuse for slovenliness.

- - - - -

Mulder, though now a mere bureaucrat with children's services, could not resist leading the raid himself. Not only did he insist on bringing his trusty heater from his FBI days, but he seemed to think himself somehow in command. Thus he stood at the head of the column of police before the little house, his gun drawn. And when one of the policemen produced a bullhorn Mulder commandeered that too.

"Attention, you in the strange quaint little house!" he said grimly, "We have come to take the _corpus delicti_ and to arrest all on the premeses for suspicion of murder and accessory to murder! Surrender now!"

The police whose duty it was to carry out the operation looked at the gung ho former G-man and sighed.

"All right! You have been warned. We are coming in. Prepare to surrender! Repeat, do not resist or you may be harmed!" Then handing the bullhorn back to the officer whose property it was Mulder charged like the cavalry, his gun drawn and cocked, and kicked open the quaint little wooden door. It was a shame, really.

The officers followed their self-appointed leader only to find him aiming now here, now there, in a house that was quite empty. Not only was it apparently devoid of human life, but there was not even any furniture.

"We appear to be too late, men," the legitimate leader of the raid said, "They've all left."

"No!" Mulder said, "Quick men, check upstairs for the body! That's where Scully said it was."

"Better do as he says, men," the chief of the operation said after a short pause based on his resentment of being upstaged by someone who really didn't even belong there. After a moment some of the men complied while others checked the various rooms on the ground floor.

"But you don't understand!" Mulder told the scowling man, "Right over there was where the quaint little old crippled Italian beggar was carving puppets and eating pear cores! And over there was the table upon which the Woman with Blue Hair was sitting a dish of stewed polecat!"

"Uh-huh," the other man said.

"And up there," he indicated the ceiling, "was where the landlord was sitting!"

"On the ceiling?"

_"He was a Talking Cricket!"_, Mulder screamed, "don't you understand _anything?_"

"Ooooooo-kay!" the man said, backing away.

Mulder, in a fit of desperation, cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "O Beautiful Little Snail, where are you???"

The captain in charge, who was backing away from Mulder, was only too glad to see all him men returning to the room from casing the house. "Nothing chief," one of them said, "nothing upstairs at all, not even any furniture."

"Same for the other ground floor rooms," said another, "All just like this one."

"But you've got to believe me!" Mulder said, grabbing onto the captain's uniform shirt desperately. But he only looked at him with contempt. "Let's go, men," he said, "I have a report to file . . . with _children's services!_" The last was stressed sarcastically to indicate to Mulder that he would not long enjoy his present employment. And this being said, they all left. Except for Mulder, that is, who knelt down on the floor in agony, clutching his hair and crying _**"Why?? Whyyyyyyyy?????????"**_

"What is going on here? Who has entered my house without my permission?" asked a little voice, and Mulder looked up to see a tiny insect hovering in the front door.

"So _there_ you are, you monster! What have you and the others done with the body??? Where are they all hiding?????"

"Good sir, I am afraid that I do not know what you are talking about," the insect said in a surprisingly calm voice.

"Oh, you don't, eh? Listen, you nefarious Cricket...!"

"Cricket? I am afraid you are mistaken," the little creature said as it flew over to Mulder--who suddenly remembered that crickets don't fly.

"Who...who are you?" he asked.

"I am a Firefly newly arrived from a far land. I purchased this house from my countryman, the Talking Cricket, just before he and his tenants left." And he blinked a few times just to show he was telling the truth about his species.

"Wh--where are they?" Mulder asked. It was all he could manage.

"I believe they said they were taking the first Dogfish back home," the Firefly said, "Apparently they found your people quite barbaric."

Still kneeling, Mulder lifted his face to the heavens.

_**"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"**_

- - - - -

Meanwhile, deep within the dark but friendly confines of the stomach of a gigantic Dogfish, an old beggar, a little girl with blue hair (she would have taken up too much space as a Woman and been too tempting a delicacy as a Goat), a Cricket, a giant Snail, and a wooden puppet enjoyed a meal of live fish as they awaited their arrival in more familiar surroundings.

"Really Papa, I could not imagine civilized people could be so ill-mannered!" said the puppet.

"Eh, well we shall know better than to go there ever again," the old beggar said.

"True," said the Cricket, "Let us always remember that home is always best, and that the world is full of vagabonds, ragamuffins, and assassins!"

"Would you like a bon-bon, Little Brother?" asked the little girl.

"Oh thank you, Dear Little Sister!" Pinocchio said, taking one from the tray the giant snail bore on her eye stalks.

"My human body is still safe?" he asked anxiously.

"Right there in the trunk," the little girl replied.

"Ah. How nice it will be to return to a place inhabited by normal people again!" he sighed.

They all agreed with him.

- - - - -

Scully could not believe what she had let herself get talked into this time. She and Mulder were alone atop the Devil's Mesa in the vast wasteland of the western desert, waving signs at the sky. Well, Mulder was waving his. She just stood there holding hers.

"Why are we here again?" she asked.

Mulder, whose sign bore the words "**BRANG IT **_**AWN!!!**_," didn't even bother to look at her. "Because from what I've seen the aliens will be an improvement! Wave your sign Scully! If we don't get them to move their timetable up we'll miss everything!"

Reluctantly, Scully took one look at her sign (whose message read "**COME FOR BABY!!!**" and shook it at the sky, but not with much heart.

She missed her implant.

The sun set.

_**THE END  
**_


End file.
